Ants
by Jaded Skies
Summary: Pesky invaders do more than barge into your home unnanounced. Rated T for a brief make-out scene


A/N: Hurray for first stories! This is a simple oneshot, we have a few ants still lingering around the house unfortunately, and I usually just kinda sit there and kill them one by one XD I'd love to hear feedback, if possible! What do you like, what don't you like? What do you feel I need to work on?

.

.

"Norge."

Another series of shuffles sounded. Blatantly ignoring the call of his name, Norway sat on the floor, a look of determination evident in his eyes as he extended a second finger toward the floor, crushing a small black speck.  
"_Nor_..." The voice tried again, only this time the sound of feet moving curiously across the oak floor, emitting several creaks of worn protest, toward the crouched male accompanied the Norwegian's nickname. A messy head of blond hair, disarray with locks sticking out in all directions imaginable even Chuck Norris would be impressed, poked in from the doorway to give his fellow Nordic a look that clearly questioned his sanity. Not that the smaller man could witness it with his attention firmly fixed on a small trail leading from one side of the wall to the other; only if one looked closely enough would they be able to tell the trail was moving when an occasional lost speck wandered too far and was respectively killed by an all-too eager index finger.

"What are you doing?"

The same slender finger that once lowered itself to the invaders' demise rose into the air, signaling the Dane to be quiet.

"I can't concentrate when an idiot is blabbering nonsense."

"Who? It's just us two—"  
Violet eyes flashed dangerously at Denmark the moment he took another step toward him. The visual daggers thrown at the Dane, however, were left unnoticed while a pair of hands clamped down on the irritated male's slender shoulders, now taught with a barely concealed urge to acquaint his elbow with a certain nuisance's stomach.

"Can we name them?" The eldest Nordic leaned over the crouched man until his chest was pressed flush against the Norwegian's narrow back.

"Sure, I'll call this one Denmark."

The one dubbed as such, was immediately crushed under Norway's thumb with such viciousness he was certain the rest had also felt it. Proof of this was when the trail was broken in a scattered mess of black flecks all scampering in panic to save themselves from a devilish blond towering over them, holding intent to kill. Caught between saving his new form of amusement from their killer's short-tempered wrath and humoring his fuming friend, blue eyes lit up as an idea hit him.  
He reached for the small hat atop his head, pressing it to his chest as he muttered, "Here lay the King of the Ants, he was the most handsomest, coolest, awesome— Oof!"  
This time, Norway made sure his companion was internally bleeding as he ground his elbow into an admittedly well-toned abdomen—The smaller man, having lost interest in his massacre, would never confess to possessing the thoughts edging in his psyche right then. His thoughts certainly did not travel to later that night where he and Denmark would be tangled under their blankets, his fingers scratching, carving and staining every inch of sun-kissed skin he could reach with angry red marks that left no question of who the tall idiot belonged to. Nor did he yearn to drag said Dane to their bedroom right then, because he definitely wasn't hot under all of that clothing, and sitting in the same position unmoving for almost an hour did not make him sore, it didn't make him want a massage from the same warm hands that wound their way to rest on his hips at that moment either. Instead, he grabbed the collar of a now smirking Dane's shirt and hauled him into a rough kiss with a silent promise of what was yet to come.  
Teeth gripped skin in a demand that was answered only after a small pinch to the ribs was made; two velvety muscles linked together, stroking the slickened walls of each other's mouths greedily stealing the unique taste that lingered. A small push from the Norwegian landed them both on the floor, the latter straddling his too-loud partner, holding no intent to let either of them up as their lips connected once more in another open mouth kiss to which Denmark accepted gratefully. His hands slid lower until they cupped the small curve of an irresistible underside just as the molested Norwegian brushed the tip of his tongue against Denmark's. Swallowing a moan that threatened to spill from his overly enthusiastic lover, Norway stood abruptly. A look that screamed satisfaction graced his normally stoic features, blending together with cruel amusement upon witnessing Denmark's dismay before he stepped over the blond sprawled on the floor, who looked as confused as Norway was pleased.

"Wait- Norge not cool! Where are you going?"

"Bug spray."

The victimized Dane only then noticed his arms were now the hosts of several curious ants; a particularly feisty one that insisted on making a meal out of his wrist caught his attention.

"I guess I'll name you Norge."


End file.
